What gives your life meaning? In a world saturated with distractions and endless demands on our attention, this is a question many of us struggle to answer. We look for purpose in our job titles, in our salaries, and in the approval of others, but these external markers often leave us feeling empty. We crave a deeper sense of connection to something larger than ourselves, a "why" that can sustain us through the inevitable challenges of life.
The Fear of the Clock: Finding Meaning in a Disposable World
In Philip K. Dick's bleak, post-apocalyptic world of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, the bounty hunter Rick Deckard is constantly confronting his own purpose, or lack thereof. His job is to "retire" (kill) androids, indistinguishable from humans, a task he often finds morally sickening. He is caught in the trap of a successful career—a high-paying job that provides for his family—but it fails to satisfy his soul.
Deckard’s internal struggle is perfectly captured when he reflects on the nature of his existence:
"You can't get away from the fact that it's all one life. One goddamn thing after another."
This quote is the ultimate expression of the "busy but getting nowhere" complaint I hear from clients. It reveals the terrifying thought that all his actions, all his hard-earned success, are just a meaningless, repetitive cycle. He is afraid that his existence is nothing more than a series of necessary, yet ultimately empty, obligations—a fear intensified by the constant threat of androids that mimic life without possessing genuine empathy.
Purpose as Direction, Not Destination
In this world of existential dread, humanity finds a strange solace in the shared ritual of Mercerism. Through a device called an "empathy box," followers physically fuse their consciousness with a messianic figure, Wilbur Mercer, as he endlessly climbs a hill while being pelted with rocks. The purpose is not in reaching the top of the hill. The purpose is in the climbing. As one follower insists, "Mercer isn't a fake. Unless reality is a fake."
This is the profound choice we must make in our own careers: Purpose is not a destination; it is a direction.
Deckard, like my clients, is focused on the summit—the money, the quota, the end of the day. But what if, like Mercer, the real purpose is found in the daily act of the climb (minus the existential dread!)?
What is your hill?
What is the core challenge or value that you are committed to, day in and day out?
For a software developer, the purpose might not be to ship a specific product, but the daily climb of solving complex problems and creating elegant code. For a leader, it isn't just hitting a quarterly target, but the daily climb of creating a supportive and ethical environment for their team.
The Resilience of Process-Rooted Purpose
A purpose that is tied solely to reaching the summit is fragile. It shatters when you fail or when you discover that the view from the top isn't what you expected. This is the anxiety that haunts Deckard—the fear that his successes are just one "goddamn thing after another."
But a purpose that is rooted in the process—in the very act of choosing a meaningful struggle—is resilient. It can sustain you through anything, because every step, no matter how difficult, becomes an affirmation of your commitment. It is about finding the hill you are willing to climb, not because of what’s at the top, but for the person you become along the way.
The climb toward purpose is often a lonely one, requiring immense fortitude in the face of adversity. In our next article, we’ll examine how the novel’s bleak environment offers surprising lessons on building resilience and finding oases of hope in the dust.
